Remembrance
by VexVulpes
Summary: There were times when he would remember. Kaito/Shiho, pointless kiddie fluff, rated K  for a brief mention of murder


_Yeah, so I was listening to the Klonoa 2 soundtrack one day and when I got to the music for the haunted house level, I ended up getting a cute idea for a Kaito/Shiho fic. Note that Shiho DOES NOT act like she does in the anime/manga. This is because I think she was a much happier, normal child (if not a bit smart for her age) before the Black Organization royally messed her up._

_Please enjoy. ^_^_

**Remembrance**

There were times when he would remember.

Sometimes he would be in school, mind wandering as the teacher lectured on calculus or history. Usually he'd come to his senses with Aoko waving a hand in his face, worry on her own as she kept asking if he was ok.

Sometimes he would be home alone, shuffling a deck of cards and cooking dinner for himself. These sessions of remembering would be longer than the ones at school, since he wouldn't have anything to snap him out of his thoughts.

And sometimes he would remember right before a heist, usually during those long waits for the designated time that he'd given the police and had overestimated the time it would take to prepare everything for his escape.

He liked remembering before a heist the most. For some reason, the memories were clearer, the small details rising to the surface when they usually stay buried in the deep depths of his subconscious. Reflecting on these memories killed time and seemed to almost calm the nerves he always got during larger heists, where the police numbers were large and security was tight.

He was only seven at the time. He remembered because his dad was still alive and had finally had time to spend with him. His dad was always busy it seemed. Now he knew it was because his dad had a double life, just like he did now.

So he was seven, meaning this memory took place ten years ago. His father had taken him and Aoko to an amusement park. Tropical Land, if he remembered correctly. It was every child's dream to go to Tropical Land.

In two years, his dad would die in a freak accident. No, he would be murdered. But little seven year old Kaito didn't know this. All he knew was that his dad had vanished and he and Aoko had just gotten in a fight over what ride to go on, choosing in the end to go their separate ways.

He remembered wanting to go into a haunted house. Aoko had protested, saying it was scary. She wanted to go to the Ferris wheel instead. So once she stormed off, he went to the haunted house by himself. Even now he could remember how sadly disappointing it was.

About half way in, he had found her.

He could never remember her name. Every time he thought he had it would vanish, slipping through his fingers and retreating back into the depths of his mind. But he remembered everything else, her red-brown hair, her blue green eyes, her soft and gentle voice…

She was crying. Not loudly, like all the other kids in the house. Quiet little whimpers as tears streamed down her face and her small frame shook. He was the only one who noticed her it seemed. Everyone else either didn't notice or didn't want to get involved.

He walked up to her. "What's wrong?"

It had taken her a while to realize he was talking to her. He remembered how she blinked as that realization sunk in, sniffling a bit before looking up at him. He remembered how, for a brief second, he had thought she was cute before banishing the thought.

At that age, girls still had cooties.

"I-I can't find my sister…"

"Your sister?"

The girl nodded before breaking into tears again. He glanced around, but people still either didn't notice or didn't care. He turned back to the girl and smiled, pulling a handkerchief out of his sleeve.

It was for his newly budding magic tricks, but it did help clean her face.

"There, there…" He had remembered at the time how his mom would do this when she was home and he had had a bad day or hurt himself trying a new magic trick. It seemed easy enough, but for some reason the action felt odd when he was doing it.

The girl had calmed down though, simply staring at him. Her eyes betrayed so much. Curiosity, shyness, gratitude, loss. She eventually managed a small smile. "Thank you."

He grinned. For some reason it felt good to see her smiling. He offered a hand. "Kuroba Kaito."

And it was here where things got fuzzy and hazy, where his memory betrayed him and teasingly stay just out of reach. Here she said her name and he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what she had said.

But after it he remembered walking through the rest of the haunted house with her, how she would stick close to him and occasionally bury her face in his shirt if she got too scared. He remembered how he had comforted her, showed her what he knew so far in magic to distract her and make her smile.

He remembered loving that smile each time she showed it.

He remembered finally reaching the end and how she had exclaimed joyously, running to an older child, maybe in her youngerer teens, and latching onto her waist, crying now in joy and trying to tell her tale through delighted sobs.

He remembered the older girl, the other girl's sister no doubt, smiling kindly at him and thanking him.

He remembered the younger girl running back to him and pecking his cheek. "Thank you, Kaito."

And as she ran back to her sister, Kaito had touched his cheek, watching the two walk off.


End file.
